I would like to thank all of you who told your stories of grief in the comments from yesterday's post. I was beyond moved. I think if I learned anything from all of you it's that we all grieve differently, we all grieve for different reasons, and we all express our grief differently. And that in different circumstances the same person can react in completely different ways to different losses. I know that I have. And your experiences helped me to see that, recognize that. The way I grieved Sue or Lynn or Kathleen was completely different from the way I grieved for my mother, if indeed what I felt then could be called grief. Part of me feels guilty about that but not very much. I reacted the way I reacted for so many reasons and I am here to tell you that I wish it had all been different but it wasn't.
Anyway, you have all given me much to ponder and I love all of you for your courage and honesty. I am humbled. And once again, I am reminded that there are things which all of us must go through in this life and that none of us are strangers to loss.
It felt a bit cooler this morning. And drier, too. So I took a little walk but by the time I got home, I realized it wasn't that much cooler or less humid. I was soaked through with sweat.
I saw some of the damage that the hurricane left behind in its wake. Some big trees down, ditches filled with water. Branches broken and snapped. But no houses toppled or roofs torn off. I walked by the GDDG and it looked perfectly fine. The filling-in of that particular low spot was done well, I suppose, and it was nowhere near washed away. The fally-down house is still falling, but not flattened yet. I realize that may not happen in my lifetime. I like that idea.
I passed a huge tree whose top had broken off, it seemed. It was hollow and beautiful in its way.
Speaking of critters, the squirrels here are fat and sassy now. There has been a pretty good acorn mast from the oak trees and now they are eating pecans as fast as they can get their sharp little teeth on them. They are scurrying around trees, hot on each others' tails. I don't think this is their mating season so perhaps they are defending their stashes of nuts or perhaps they are simply playing, which the juveniles frequently do. A lot of people dislike squirrels, calling them tree rats and other derogatory names. And yes, they eat the birdseed if they can get at it and they eat the pecans and they...well, what DO they do besides those things that get people so upset? I've lived around squirrels all my life and they are just part of our scenery. They chitter and they run around the trees, their toenails making a scittery sound as they grab on to the bark. They sit up and eat with their front paws like little trained bears. They are natural acrobats, leaping from branch to branch and a mother squirrel will defend her babies with the ferocity of a lioness against snakes and hawks and owls.
I rather like the furry little things and would miss them terribly if they were gone.
"I just can't take the heat anymore," they all say.
Good Lord. Me either. So I doubt I worked out there more than forty-five minutes but that was all I had in me. I'm trying to clear it out to make room for the fall and winter garden and this involves not only weeding and pulling of spent plants but also the pulling of sweet potato vines which I have allowed to take over.
Mr. Moon did indeed warn me about this.
"Oh, honey," I said. "Let them grow."
"Happy birthday," he said, as he slapped it down on the counter.
"Thank you!" I said. "Just what I wanted."